


Echoing Memories

by TheEruditeGrammacist



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Gen, Non-Graphic Violence, Reminiscing, extended drabble
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-17 05:07:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9306581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEruditeGrammacist/pseuds/TheEruditeGrammacist
Summary: Memories are never truly lost. They can be repressed, forgotten, or cast away, but they will always return with the right trigger.Extended drabbles in which three heroes are haunted by memories of their previous lives, interfering with the lives they lead now.





	1. Owain- Names

Lord Leo was bent over a map of Nohr, red pieces in place to represent the Hoshidan army and blue for Nohr. Xander had entrusted him with the task of devising their strategy, and neither he nor his retainers were taking it lightly. The mage known to the Nohrians as Odin Dark was shifting the pieces around the map with a spell, narrating each tactic and counterattack as he did so.

“But if we deploy the wyvern brigade  _ there, _ it leaves us open to aerial attack from the Kinshi knights.” Niles, Leo’s other retainer, cut into his comrade's speech.

“That can be countered with Bow Knights.” the sorcerer dismissed. “I can persuade Selena to lead that charge, should the need arise. I’m more worried about our Berserkers, the Hoshidan Myrmidon have proven more than capable of-...”

“I’m sorry, the Hoshidan Mermer- what now?” Niles interrupted.

The other man froze. “The, uhhh, Samurai.” he said after a moment. “I meant samurai.” 

Leo and Niles regarded him for a moment curiously, but he plowed ahead with his plan. It wasn’t until after he was done and the other two had left the room that he sat back and assessed his thoughts.

“Odin Dark does  _ not _ make mistakes like that.” he muttered to himself. “Is perhaps my fell guise receding?” He glanced at his arm, out of habit at that point, but his Brand had not resurfaced.

This was the second slip he’d made in as many weeks, the first had been during a routine mission, a bandit raid on a nearby village. He’d announced himself as Owain to the villains and swore to strike them down. Thankfully, the bandits did not know or care which was his real name and which was his alias. Only Niles had heard it, but  _ Owain _ was so similar to  _ Odin _ that he’d merely written it off as something else Odin said that he was unable to understand.

A sword had been left in the room, ownerless, and likely unnamed. Owain made his way over to it, and grasped the hilt. It fit comfortably in his hand. It was a Nohr-style Killing Edge, with a serrated blade. It was unlike the Ylissean ones he was used to, but the effect was the same. He set his tome aside and swung the blade experimentally. 

“I hereby dub thee…” he paused, recalling the name of a legendary sword, with feats unmatched by any. Wielded by a true champion, one worthy of praise. A name unlike his usual, extravagant names, but fitting nonetheless.

“Falchion.” he decided, “Parallel Falchion. ‘Tis the name of the blade of the noble princess who sacrificed everything to lead others into the past, to save the world from destruction,” he told the sword. “Bear the title with honor.”


	2. Severa- Family

Severa’s horse skittered under her. She was no master with horses like her mother, but even she could tell that it didn’t like the underground tunnels they were waiting in. Not for the first time, she was grateful that she wasn’t a pegasus knight; she didn’t even want to know how pegasi would  react to being forced underground like this.

“Selena,” Beruka said from next to her, and she turned, so used to the fake name after years of its use that she was more likely to respond to it muttered than if someone yelled, “ _ SEVERA!!! _ ” directly in her face. But her real name was still her real name, and she’d be damned if she referred to herself by any other.

She turned to her fellow retainer. “What, Beruka?” she asked. “Is something wrong?”

“That was going to be my question.” her stoic companion replied. “When Lady Camilla promoted you to Bow Knight, you assured her that you were capable of, and skilled in, archery. Yet you seem hesitant to use your bow. Why?”

Severa flushed. She was definitely skilled with a bow, once Noire picked it up so long ago she’d been the one to help her childhood friend learn to use it properly, and in the process had become rather proficient at it herself. But archery had always been Noire’s thing, and perhaps Severa was half-expecting her friend to appear to shoot down their foes while she stabbed them, just like they used to.

But Noire wasn’t here now. The job was hers alone.  Perhaps that was why she’d been so accepting of her new position, for a reminder of her past, of her family. Some form of familiarity.

It wasn’t until a minute had passed that she realized she hadn’t answered Beruka’s question, and the other woman was staring at her expectantly. “Oh, I-I just, um, had a friend a long time ago who used a bow and arrow, I guess I’ve just sort of been associating it in my mind as ‘her job.’ It’s nothing, really.”

Beruka hummed and said nothing more. A commotion down the tunnel caught their attention, and they advanced, Beruka leading with Severa trailing behind, bow in hand. 

Two fighters, clearly Hoshidan, were making their way toward them, a Falcon Knight and a Priestess. Before Severa could call a warning to Beruka, the pink-haired priestess let an arrow fly. It hit Beruka’s wyvern hard, and the two fell to the ground.

Severa cursed and charged the priestess, getting closer than her bow’s range would allow to strike her with her sword. The woman staggered, and her red-haired companion cried out, her voice hauntingly familiar. Severa turned, and saw her, her breath caught in her throat.  _ A red-haired pegasus knight… There’s no way. She’s too young to be… and it wouldn’t even be possible for  _ her _ to be here… _

Her opponent clearly did not recognize her, however, as the girl who looked so like Severa’s mother charged forward and jabbed with her naginata, taking advantage of Severa’s shock and following up with a sweep that knocked Severa off her horse. 

The girl turned to her companion and waved a Hoshidan healing rod (Owain had once told her they were called “festals,” but Severa found that name ridiculous. He’d probably made it up) toward her Priestess companion, and the two continued on, leaving Severa injured and Beruka unconscious. The receding sound of wingbeats ceased, then approached, and Severa craned her neck to look up. The girl was returning, her pink-haired companion clearly against it.

“Caeldori, my friend/ you’re only wasting our time/ Please, we should just go.” the Priestess said, but Caeldori shook her head and waved her rod again, and Severa gasped as she felt the gash in her chest close up.

“Don’t follow us.” Caeldori said shortly, then she led her companion down the tunnel and away from Severa.

Severa laid back on the tunnel floor, heaving with unshed tears. That girl probably didn’t look like her mother at all, it was most likely just her own desire to see Cordelia again that made any redheaded Pegasus Knight look like her. And... sound like her. Somehow.

Aching with loneliness, Severa crawled to the wall and curled up, and began to cry hot tears, for the friends she’d faced the apocalypse with that she’d come to consider family, for her parents, for all the people she would never admit aloud that she missed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why, no! It did _not_ escape my notice that Selena got Bow Knight and Laslow got Hero during their late-game chapters, even though Selena’s higher relative Spd stat would have given her a physical advantage over the faster Hoshidan classes, while Laslow’s lower Skl and Res stats meant he would have benefitted from the Bow Knight’s growth rates in those areas. Plus, for the purposes of continuity, Severa _outright_ stated during Harvest Scramble that archery was Noire’s thing, not hers.
> 
> \\_0.o_/
> 
> I mean, I’m not an idiot, I get that having Laslow as Hero during the neatly arranged Xander chapter was more aesthetically pleasing, and besides, this is Birthright we’re talking about, and it’s meant to be the less challenging of the first two paths anyway. Whatever, y’all aren’t here to learn about my reclassing opinions.


	3. Inigo- Alone

Inigo grit his teeth as he teased the arrow from his abdomen. He was tempted to simply pull the entire thing out at once, but as Brady had once yelled at him, “That’s almost as bad as pushin’ the thing out the other end, you idiot!” At least the arrow hadn’t been poisoned, or worse, infected with Risen blight. He still bore a scar from one of those. Inigo wished Brady was here now, he’d never been good at doing first aid to himself.

The arrow eventually came out, and Inigo slumped against a wall, breathing heavily. He pulled some vulnerary from a cache in his armor and dabbed some into his chest. That was another thing Brady had let none of them forget- the importance of keeping self-first aid items on hand at all times. There weren’t always healers in the apocalypse, or in this instance, in the entry hall of his liege's own castle. He was on his own for now, regardless of whether he was good at it or not.

“On that note, where  _ are  _ Peri and Lord Xander…” he muttered aloud to himself. “I don’t hear the Hoshidan army any more, but I also don’t hear Lord Xander... “ He unsteadily got to his feet, wincing. When the Hoshidans had swept through the area and defeated him, he’d believed himself finished for good, but he’d awoken to the stabbing pain of an arrow. He’d lost plenty of blood, but he’d survive. He had to, he had to return to Ylisse with Severa and Owain. He couldn’t bear to let them down. 

He slowly made his way through the chamber, unsteady on his feet, until he reached the great hall in which Xander had stood, awaiting Corrin. A grisly scene met his eyes. 

Lord Xander was dead, the bleeding slashes across his chest left little doubt of that. Peri was in the hall too, she must have charged in at some point to help Xander once the Hoshidans interfered with their lord’s duel. She was quite clearly dead, a shining arrow protruded from her neck and two more from her chest (that younger Hoshidan prince wielded a magic bow; this was likely his doing). Several more corpses, including the body of Lady Elise, were strewn about the chamber haphazardly. Inigo stumbled out of the hall, his hands shaking. He was no stranger to death, as this was the third war he’d been a part of (fourth if he counted the two timelines he fought Grima and the Risen as two separate wars) but he’d never faced so much death alone. When his parents died, he’d had Lucina, Severa, Owain, and and all their other friends from the future. When they’d fought the Valmese, and Grima the second time, they’d even had their parents back. Or another version of them, at least. But now, Severa was taking care of the depressed princess and Owain was gods-knew-where, and Inigo was alone with a dead prince he’d sworn to protect, the prince’s dead sister, his own dead fellow retainer, and the bodies of many soldiers, friend and foe alike. He might as well have been alone in a tomb.

Inigo felt sick. He raced from the room and retched violently into the nearest chamber pot. He coughed weakly, and retched again. He collapsed to the floor, trembling.

He couldn’t be alone, he’d never been able to stand being alone. Be they family, friends, or lovers, he’d always sought out company to the best of his ability. The company of others had always been a constant presence, no matter what; during the apocalypse, during war, and even when he had crossed over into another world entirely, he’d always had a shoulder to lean on. But now he had no one. No lovely ladies to flirt with, no brothers-in-arms to boast with. No Severa or Lord Xander to call him out on his idiocy, no Owain or Peri to give life color.

Inigo may have dropped nearly everyone he knew to take on the guise of “Laslow,” but he had never before felt so alone.


End file.
